It's An Autumn Time Soapbox Post.

I love this time of year.  I hate time changes.  I love the colors on the mountains.  I hate when it gets almost summer warm after I've gotten snow boots out.  I love crisp mornings.  I hate runny noses.  I love the smell of spiced pumpkin.  I hate the smell of spiced vanilla.  I love extra chocolate choices in the seasonal section of the grocery store.  I hate blood and gore and the living dead.

I really do love this time of year.  But as we have been coming up to Halloween we have been having some discussions here at our house.  A couple of weeks ago we went to Lagoon.  It was our last hurrah with our passes.  It was also Frightmares.  Last year we went in the evening and I hated it!  I hated the characters coming up and chasing and scaring.  So this year we went earlier in the day.  We rode rides and had fun and then headed to that side of the park.  The characters weren't as scary and it was light outside.  We got into one of the lines for a haunted house.  Daniel said it was an old movie theme.  Love it.  We were thinking Alfred Hitchcock. We stood in line for a while.  As we got closer to the building we could see the posters on the walls.  They were R-rated gore and living dead movies.  So we looked at the pamphlet again and read slower this time.  There was no old in the description.  They were gory, bloody, night of the living dead movies.  We got out of line and told the kids that the movies they would depict were R-rated and so we would be leaving.  We were all relieved.

Years ago I was taking an Institute class while in college.  Yep, I went to college!  I hope it doesn't surprise you.  Anyway, my Institute teacher was wonderful.  As we got closer to Halloween, he spoke of an experience he had had several years earlier.  His wife had just had a baby boy.  He passed away due to some difficulties.  As his wife recovered from pregnancy, delivery and loss, he went to the local mall in Provo to get white clothing for his son.  As he walked toward the mall there were movie posters up.  And they were graphic.  The one that caught his attention was of a grave with a bloody arm coming up out of the ground.  It stung him.  He had just lost his baby boy and he and his family were looking forward with joy and hope to the Morning of the First Resurrection.  And that poster, as well as the others around it, was mocking that great gift.

I walked away from my class that day with a renewed appreciation for the Resurrection.  Many years later, when my brother Aaron passed away, the Resurrection became our reality.  We have taught our children over these last 10 years that the Morning of the First Resurrection is going to be the best day ever.  Jesus will come and we will see Aaron, Opah, Grandma Shelba, Lyndsay and Rebecca again.  It will be a glorious day and we want to be there. 

But when we see these depictions of gore and blood and living dead, zombie like creatures, we become desensitized to what our bodies are.  Temples of God.  Death is not scary or ugly or gory.  When Jesus went to Lazurus to raise him from the dead, Lazurus did not rise from his tomb bloody and gross and scary.  He shined bright with the Light of Christ.  That is how death should be thought of.  Bright.  Lovely.  Reuniting with so many loved ones. 

While discussing Halloween and haunted houses and gore for Family Home Evening last week, we decided as a family that we would not go where the Holy Ghost would not.  Haunted houses are a red light for the Holy Ghost.  Gory costumes are a red light for the Holy Ghost.  We still love Halloween.  We love the excitement of dressing up and having fun with friends and getting candy.  But you will not see us gory or gross. 

And you will, I hope, see us the Morning of the First Resurrection.  Bright.  Beautiful.  Full of life.

A Choice.

There are several things I am very passionate about. My family. My Faith. My political views. One thing I am very sure of involving these things is that I don't put my religion or my politics on my front lawn or on my car. I don't even put little stickers spelling out who is in my family on my car. But it's fairly obvious, when you come to my house, what my family situation is. I have kids. And I hope it's fairly obvious what my faith is. And even perhaps my political views.

But I have been perplexed by something recently seen on the news. A former first lady has just written a book and was doing the book tour with news agencies, etc. She has stated that she is for abortion when the mother's life is at risk or for “other reasons”. That's what she said. She is pro choice without giving the baby a choice.

And that's where I have a huge problem. And frankly, it's something I feel the need to “soapbox”about. So here it goes.

I am pro life. But I also have called myself-only with the opportunity to explain it-pro choice. When a young woman finds she is pregnant and isn't ready for the responsibility, there is a choice. It's called adoption. Why does the choice only include killing an innocent child or raising it under less than ideal circumstances? I know the abortion debate is very political. But it's also moral. It involves another person who has no say in what the mother chooses.

Did you know that only 1% of abortions occur as a result of rape or incest? Only 6% occur because of potential health problems for the mother. That leaves 93% of abortions occurring just because. That is inexcusable! In 2005, 1.2 million abortions were performed in the U.S. Even though that number is lower than the number in 2000, it is 1.2 million babies that were not given an opportunity to live. And that many babies who weren't even considered to be placed in the arms of a man and woman who have been struggling and waiting and hoping to have a baby placed in their arms.

I had made a statement out loud about abortion once. I was later reprimanded by a woman who was there who said she had had an abortion. She was full term and the baby was not going to live once born. But he was still alive. His brain stem hadn't developed. So. She. Aborted. Her. Son. He was full term. He was still living.

My mom has a friend who found, during her pregnancy, that the baby girl had not had a brain develop. She had that baby. They knew she wouldn't live long. So they took her home. As they knelt for family prayer, that baby, with no brain, but with a strong and sweet spirit, looked around at her eternal family as they prayed together. She died shortly after that. I can't imagine a sweeter experience.

I know this is a debate that will go on forever more. And I am sad. I love my children. I look forward to my family growing again. Trust me! You'll know when my family is going to grow!! I will rejoice in the choice that our birth mom makes to give her baby life. And I pray, because I am passionate about my faith, that more will make that choice. And Choose Life.

Please note that I know that not everyone who reads this post will agree with my position. Please don't flame or vent or accuse on either side in the comments. Any such comments will be removed. Thanks! ~me

My Soapbox.

As many of you are aware, there has been some news time given to International Adoption as of late. My heart is broken and I feel the need to stand on a soapbox for a moment.

First, every child deserves a mother and a father! No question in my mind. EVERY CHILD deserves a mother and a father. There are children all over the world, who, through no fault of their own, do not have a mommy and daddy. Disaster, illness, death, abandonment, selfishness, politics, and many other things have given way to create children we refer to as orphans. There is no way to express the pain in my heart for all those children who do not have a home and a mommy and daddy. To love them. To nurture them. To feed them. To kiss and hug them. To protect them. To provide for them. I would love to see all of the orphaned children and all the children who are abused and/or neglected be placed in a home with parents and love and protection. I am not asking that everyone now try to adopt. It can't work like that. But those who feel a desire to have a child join their family. Who feel that there is one more person who needs to be with them. Do it. Do it boldly. And do it now. And to the governments who put regulations and limitations on who can adopt and under what circumstances they can adopt. Knock it off! Thank you!

Second, International Adoption (from now on IA) is a difficult and heart wrenching experience. I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when we brought our daughter home. How she would change our lives forever. How she would look at her brothers with so much love and admiration. How she would wrap people around her finger no matter where she was. How she would smile and how my heart sang when she did. Nor did I realize how difficult it would be. I refer to the first 3 months we had her in our arms as “Hell On Wheels”. It was hard. I didn't leave the house for 3 months. I only went grocery shopping after she was asleep for the night. I held on to anything that looked like she trusted me with all I had. I had to prove myself. I had to teach her that I would always be there for her. That I would never leave her. That I love her with all my heart, even though she didn't even know me. After 3 months of intense attachment therapy, I finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. When a child has been institutionalized, there are deep rooted issues that many are not ever aware of. Some of that comes out as mistrust. Some comes out as violence. Some comes out as self destruction. I can't tell you how grateful I am that Daniel and I (and our boys) stuck with our sweet girl. That we worked hard each and every day and night to teach her that we are hers. Forever. There is help for those who need it. There are people who can step in and correct behavior and teach a parent how to parent a previously institutionalized child. How to attach to a newly adopted child. I wish every IA parent went into IA with eyes wide open and all the resources listed and ready to be contacted!

Third, Adoption is wonderful and part of Heavenly Father's plan. There is something about adoption that rings true and everlasting and real. We are all adopted, afterall. As children of Christ, we are all adopted. Isn't it wonderful?! When we, as husband and wife, realize that birthing our children is not part of the plan for us, many turn to adoption. But it has to be a full hearted turn. Both have to agree and feel the necessary pull to it. If one or both don't, it will never work. Children are an heritage of the Lord (Psalm 127:3). Adoption is hard. Heck! Parenting is hard. But the children are worth it. If they weren't, well my dears, we would have been lost a long time ago. We were all children once ourselves. And to have the wonderful and beautiful title of Parent or more specifically, Mother, we should do everything in our power to give our children everything they need!

And lastly, the little boy who was sent back to Russia. I hope he gets the help he needs. I hope a family is found for him that will love him and nurture him and help him. I hope the mother who sent him on a plane by himself to fly half way around the world has justice brought to her.

And now I'll step off the soapbox.